


Ouvert

by okapi



Series: Clothes Make the Woman [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Clothing Porn, F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Femslash, Genderswap, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John go lingerie shopping. All genderswapped. PWP. Lingerie porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouvert

Today was going to be a fun day.

Hair was the best weathervane of Sherlock’s moods. While John breakfasted, Sherlock had tamed her hair into sleek, shiny black waves and fastened them in soft rolls with combs. It wasn’t the severe, restrictive pinning required by the Work or an experiment. It wasn’t the feral unruliness of a Black Mood. John smiled when she appeared. Sherlock smiled back, a genuine one that lit up her mercurial eyes. John loved all of the faces of Sherlock, but playful Sherlock was one of her favorites.

“Ready?” Sherlock raised one eyebrow.

Breakfast plate in the sink, a last check to make sure the lid of the mould experiment WAS on.

“Come on, John!” Sherlock was already down the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am,” John replied to an empty flat. Keys, wallet, out the door.

 

“How about [this one](http://www.agentprovocateur.com/lingerie/suspenders/info/birthday-suit-suspender~red)?” The hand on the other side of the curtain held out a garment that was essentially red ribbons crisscrossed with strategic bows.

“Lovely.”

“John, don’t lie to me.”

“No, I get it. You are a present. I get to unwrap you.”

“It's called a birthday suit.”

“Yeah, well, you never know when there’ll be a case that you’ll have to go undercover as a Christmas gift.”

“Alright. Next.”

John was sitting on a soft round bench in the center of a spacious fitting suite with full –length mirrors, small pedestals, and empty clothing racks. Sherlock was behind one of the doors of the individual fitting rooms that lined the walls.

“How about [this](http://www.delicates.co.uk/Jane-Woolrich-73710-Nightdress.html)?”

The fitting door slammed open. Sherlock struck a dramatic pose, right hand up holding doorway, left hand at her hip. She was in a white chiffon full length nightdress and a matching lace robe with wide sleeves.

John giggled, “You look like you stepped out of a Wilkie Collins novel.”

Sherlock swirled around the room and plopped down on the bench. She leaned back so her head was in John’s lap and put her palm against her head dramatically.

“I could wear it around the flat and swoon…”

“…and die prettily of consumption,” John added, planting a quick peck on her forehead.

“…or laudanum.” Sherlock whirled back into the fitting room, a flurry of chiffon and lace.

Fabric rustled behind the door.

“A little role play, John?” Sherlock asked huskily. She was wearing a very short plaid skirt with white crop top that tied in the front. “Naughty school girl, hmmm?” She swayed her hips lasciviously as she made her slow approach. “Correct me.” She leaned down, and John took in her cleavage and breasts, stretching the white knit. “Teach me.” Sherlock turned around, straddling her legs, and wiggled her arse at John, flipping up the plaid ruffle in the back. “School me.” No knickers. _Jesus Christ_.

John hastily smoothed the fabric down. “Sherlock! I am pretty sure that at any moment we could not have this place to ourselves.”

“Nonsense. I put a ‘Closed’ sign and a cleaning cart at the entrance. And, I told Madame proprietor that if we didn’t have some _intimité_ for the next hour that there would be a serious audit of her accounts. Some of this merchandise did not arrive in this country through proper channels, John.”

“Well, in that case,” John rubbed her face with her hands. She flipped the skirt up, and Sherlock began grinding against John’s lap. John trailed wet kisses down Sherlock’s spine. She caressed her round buttocks, squeezing the flesh firmly with both hands.

In the mirrors, John watched as Sherlock’s breasts bobbed and swayed. She nuzzled Sherlock’s back, biting gently at the fabric. She felt a warm ache growing between her legs, where the pressure of Sherlock’s arse was providing a delicious friction.

They locked eyes in the mirror.

“Let me see them.”

Sherlock leaned back into John’s lap. John carefully hid her face behind Sherlock’s, just peeking out so that she could see the detective in the glass.

Sherlock pulled the top wide with both hands, exposing her nipples. John groaned loudly and rubbed Sherlock’s neck with her nose, kissing it.

“Play with them.”

Sherlock hitched the fabric under her breasts and began rubbing her nipples with her thumbs. She closed her eyes and arched her back. She licked her index fingers and thumbs and resumed her playing.

“John.” Sherlock sighed. John watched Sherlock’s nipples pebbling and felt her own harden in response.

John straightened up in her seat. She took Sherlock’s hands from her chest and lifted them, wrapping them behind her neck. Then, John curled her own hands in place of Sherlock’s and continued to tease the already-sensitive nubs. She gently squeezed the breasts, feeling their fullness.

“Oh, oh, John.” Sherlock protested weakly.

“Show me. Show me how wet you are.”

In the mirror, John watched Sherlock flip up the front of the plaid skirt and open her legs wide. The dark pubic hair was matted.

“Give me a little taste. Just a little one.”

Sherlock whimpered. She put her hand between her legs and then lifted her index finger to John, who sucked greedily at it. They both moaned.

“I am going to bite this pretty arse hard.” John pushed Sherlock forward and down with one hand. She smoothed the other hand up Sherlock’s thigh. Then, she licked a circle on the meatiest part of Sherlock’s cheek and sank her teeth into it.

Whether it was the angle that Sherlock was leaning or the shape of the bench or the heat of the moment, neither woman was ever sure, but Sherlock became unbalanced and toppled from John’s lap onto the floor.

“Ugh.” Sherlock lay in a heap.

“Sherlock! Are you okay? What the fuck?” John crouched down and gently turned her on her back. They looked at each other in silence, and then they both burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Indeed.”

“Somewhat inevitable. I mean we both WERE naughty school girls and all we ever got for it was awkward, silly moments like this,” John offered Sherlock a hand and pulled her to standing. “We’ve enough role playing with the cases anyway…”

“Quite.” Sherlock limped back into the fitting room and closed the door.

The door cracked and [a leather corset ](http://www.passionfashions.co.uk/shop/leather-amp-pvc/leather-underwear/basques-and-corsets/leather-corset-set-445437.html)with a zipper down the front appeared.

“Irene?”

“Irene.” Enough said about that.

More rustling noises.

“John, if we spend over a certain amount, they will throw in free ‘bedroom accessories’, furry handcuffs and a feather whip and the like.”

Clunk, clunk of shoes.

“The handcuffs that you pilfered from Lestrade are quite serviceable. I don’t think I could make it through anything without laughing if we had furry ones. Plus, I quite like the idea of using a riding crop that was once used on an actual, ummm, horse. As long as it wasn’t used on a corpse as well. It wasn’t, right, Sherlock?” John had always been a little nervous on that point.

“Mycroft will never miss the crop. Plus, if you leave something like that about, she’s libel to use it on herself.”

“Sherlock! Not on.”

“Hmmfph.”

Then the fitting room door opened slowly, and Sherlock said,

[“This.](http://www.figleaves.com/uk/product/FIG-126106/figleaves-boudoir-Charm-Ribbon-Slot-Hold-Up/?colour=Multicoloured&noc=1)”

John drank her in. Fell to her knees and echoed,

“This.”

Sherlock’s back was to her. She was draped in a very short, black satin kimono, pulled up at the waist. The frilly black knickers rose ever so slightly on her plump rear. Her legs, though, her legs. Tall pointy black stilettos, led to black silk, which rose up her legs. The hold ups were split at the thigh with black ribbons lacing up the back.

 _God, she loved this woman._ John stood up and offered her a hand, and Sherlock took it. They never took their eyes off each other as John led her ceremonially to a small platform in the middle of three full length mirrors.

“Might as well make it literal. Let’s get you up on a pedestal.”

John walked back and forth behind Sherlock, who was facing the mirrors. Between the step and the shoes, it seemed to John that Sherlock towered over the whole room. Sherlock released the tie on the kimono and let it hang open. The black silk contrasted dramatically with the creamy skin that peeked out.

“You are some kind of beautiful.” John approached and sweetly kissed the black ribbon bows on the back of Sherlock’s thighs.

Sherlock turned and bent her knees.

“I adore you, John.” Their lips met, full and open, soft and warm, welcoming. “None of this matters without you.” John thought her heart would burst so she stayed quiet. She wrapped her arms around Sherlock and buried her face in the crook of her neck.

When she felt the moment wash over her, John said, “Alright. Lauds is over. Let’s get you fucked.” Sherlock stepped down and sat on the bench; John straddled her, pulling the combs from her hair and letting her dark hair fall loosely to her shoulders. John kissed down her torso, licking at her nipples. She ran her hands all over the knickers, teasing her fingertips just under the edges of the fabric. Sherlock squirmed and whined.

“John, I’d rather like to watch myself get fucked.”

“That can be arranged. Knickers off. The rest stays on.”

John guided Sherlock up and turned her around so that she bent forward, bracing her arms on the seat of the bench. John’s hands skimmed up Sherlock’s legs and under the knickers pulling them down slowly to floor. Sherlock stepped out of them. They pulled out the platform and put a chair in the middle of the three mirrors. They drug a standing mirror on the far side of the chair. Sherlock sat on the very edge of the chair, and John settled herself on her knees between Sherlock’s legs.

“Watch.”

John licked and probed with her tongue. She sucked Sherlock’s clit gently and then not so gently, all the time teasing at the black lace on Sherlock’s thighs. One stiletto point bit hard into John’s back. Sherlock eventually shirked off the kimono, and brushed the cloth by John’s cheek before dropping it to the floor. John rubbed it hungrily.

Sherlock rose from the chair and turned. John spread Sherlock’s buttocks and gave a quick lick at her rim. Sherlock watched her in the far mirror.

Sherlock’s voice was wrecked. “John. This is what it looks like. To be serviced like a Queen.”

John said nothing, just grinned up at her, then ducked her head and went back to her ministrations, sliding two fingers into her wet cunt.

 

If Madame heard Sherlock scream John’s name, she made no mention of it when she rang up their numerous purchases. Variety was the spice of life, and les Mademoiselles had made very nice selections, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of PWPs related to clothing & underclothing in a genderswapped Sherlock universe.


End file.
